


Lost

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, a case involving children, mulder as a profiler, samantha angst, season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23836768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: When three little girls go missing, Mulder's expertise as a profiler is needed but Scully is more worried about how a case like that might affect him.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 29
Kudos: 112
Collections: X-Files Angst Fanfic Exchange (2020)





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xraelynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xraelynn/gifts).



> Rachel, I hope you like this story! 
> 
> Prompt was: Any situation where Scully says to Mulder: "You're getting too close to this case." – especially if it's early in their partnership. I tried my best to include Mulder as a profiler and Samantha angst. I couldn't make it work early in their partnership so this is set in season 6.
> 
> Edited to add that I am eternally grateful to sarie_fairy and frangipanidownunder who helped me so much in creating this. Thank you for all the kind words, the support, the feedback and the beta!

_“Why can’t you ever do anything on your own?” Mark’s voice cracks as he yells at his sister, heightening his anger. His Gameboy blinks at him; he needs to charge it and soon. She always does this to him. Always gets in his way._

_“You’re not a baby anymore, you know?” Where are his shoes? He finds one black, dirt-crusted sneaker and puts it on. The other one is nowhere to be found. A lock of his too long hair falls into his face and he angrily tucks it behind his ear._

_“You promised.” His sister, Jenny, stands there in her sundress and her sandals, playing with her hair. “You said you’d come with me to the store.” She sniffs and he glares at her. He hates when she does that. The guilt game. As the older one, he always loses._

_“Why do you need to go today?”_

_“You promised!” She yells and stomps her foot. “I hate you, Mark! I hate you! Mom said you have to help me!”_

_“Why can’t you just wait a day? Why can’t you ever leave me alone!” He screams, his voice high-pitched. He hates it. He hates everything! Most of all he hates having a little sister. His anger threatens to boil over. Jenny stares at him with narrowed eyes before she tears open the door and storms out._

_She gives him one last look before she gets on her bike and rides off. Mark doesn’t know it yet, but her storming out, her grey eyes like an angry ocean, is the last time he will ever see his little sister._

*

Sometimes, they look at her as if she doesn’t belong here. Not on the sixth floor, anyway. Without fail, Scully greets every agent with a ‘good morning’ and a smile, even if it’s forced. She hasn’t mentioned it to Mulder, but once or twice, she has forgotten where she was going and pressed the wrong button in the elevator. She no longer has a need to go down to the basement, only up, to her desk, to her small workspace in the crowded office. She’s aware they were the subject of watercooler talk before they lost the X-Files, but now she sees – and hears – it every day. Voices hush when she walks past. ‘Did you know…’ and ‘did you hear that…’ in whispered tones become a daily occurrence.

At first glance, today isn’t different. Scully is running a few minutes late, the coffeeshop around the corner having been unusually busy. She’s carrying two steaming Styrofoam cups, one for her and one for Mulder. They’re still a team and neither of them plays well with others.

“Good morning.” Scully smiles at Agent Henley, one of the guys she and Mulder share the office space with. His grimy smiles remind her of Tom Colton. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and follows her, walking too close for her liking. His aftershave is heavy and overwhelming. She wants nothing more than to get away from him.

“Morning. So, are you happy you’re finally rid of Agent Spooky?”

“Excuse me?”

“Agent Spooky – Mulder. I hear they’re putting him back in the BSU. He’s supposed to be this genius profiler, right?”

Absent-mindedly, Scully nods. Why didn’t Mulder mention anything? Just last night, when it was only them in the office, he grinned at her in the soft blue glow of their computer screens, joking about hacking into Spender’s email account to find worthwhile X-Files. Her heart constricts. Maybe he didn’t feel comfortable talking to her about it. Maybe he talked to Diana about it instead.

“It’s good news, right?” Agent Henley is as insistent as always, as annoying, too. “Him being out of the office. You must be glad.” What he means is that he’s glad. Scully doesn’t reply, doesn’t know what to say. The best she can do is grimace before they enter the office.

The room is too small for the six agents who work here. She listens to the mix of typing, boredom and monotone phone calls. Her eyes wander to Mulder’s desk, close to her own, but it’s empty. She puts the coffee cup on his desk, discreetly glancing at the file that’s sitting there. No one is paying attention to her so she opens it. Pictures of three young girls make her breath hitch. Marla, 8 years old, Christine, 9 years old, and Jenny, 8 years old – all missing. Three girls with tooth gaps, grinning up into the camera, frozen in time. Maybe forever.

She scrambles for her phone, needing to know where Mulder is. As she listens to the dial tone, tapping her finger against the desk, she skims the file. All three girls went missing on the same day, in a matter of hours. No witnesses in any case. With no traces to follow, the local police is at a loss and called the FBI, asked for their best people. No wonder they’ve requested Mulder for the case.

Why isn’t he answering his damn phone?

“Hey Scully.” Speak of the devil. Mulder rushes into the office, throwing her a quick, grateful smile when he sees the coffee cup. He sits in his chair and takes a big sip. Scully leans against his desk, arms crossed in front of her chest, just looking at him. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that the BSU wants you back?” She keeps her voice low, not wanting anyone else to hear their conversation.

“It happened this morning,” he says. “I just got back from my briefing. It’s just one case.” She said the same thing, not long ago. The Arthur Fellig case is yet another matter they don’t discuss, nor the ramifications. The distance between them has grown greater again. How does this always happen, she wonders? How do they take one step forward and three steps back? A few weeks ago, Mulder visited her daily at the hospital, stayed by her side, made sure she was healing. Now they’re back here, an X-Files shaped hole in their partnership.

“They’re sending you out to there - alone,” she says matter-of-factly and he nods slowly. Now she knows how Mulder felt when they paired her up with Agent Ritter. And he was right: they’re trying to split them up. Permanently. Her scar itches, reminding her of what happens when they don’t work together.

“I didn’t ask for this, Scully.”

“I know,” she replies, feeling frustrated. She bites her lip, trying to keep the uneasiness she feels at bay. There’s something about that case, about knowing that Mulder will be out there without a partner. Without anything to anchor him.

“But why you?” She thinks of the pictures she saw, the little girls. She briefly glances at the picture frame on Mulder’s desk. The colors of the photograph may have faded over time, but Samantha’s smile is as radiant as the first time Scully laid eyes on it.

He shrugs. “They must have read some of my profiles.” She knows he’s being modest. His profiles are still being used as leading examples at Quantico – and he hasn’t been working as a profiler in years.

“I want to come with you,” she blurts, her cheeks coloring slightly.

Mulder shakes his head and gives her a small smile. “Kersh is already pissed because they’ve specifically requested me. He won’t let you go.”

She sighs, knowing he’s right. “You’ll call me?”

“Can’t live without me, huh?” His grin is broad and she, too, manages a smile. Yes, she’ll miss him. That, however, is not the reason why she wants him to call. She knows what these cases do to him. She has seen it before. She knows how he loses himself trying to save the world from another monster. The fates of three little girls rely on him. She thinks of their smiling faces, so full of life. If one of them were her child… she shudders, can’t fathom the thought. But she’d want Mulder on the case, always.

“Please promise me you’ll be careful.”

He nods.

“And you call me every night.”

He glances up at her, chuckling.

“Mulder,” she warns. “You’ll call?”

He nods again and puts a hand over his heart solemnly. “Yes, ma’am.”

The relief from his answer is short-lived. The sense of uneasiness that has settled deep in her stomach refuses to budge and there is nothing she can do about it.

*

Who knew that you could be bone-tired from the world’s most boring job? Scully kicks off her heels as soon as she gets home, sighing in relief. She takes a cleansing shower before she puts on her most comfortable, fluffy pajamas. Up until now, she hasn’t allowed herself to think about Mulder. His absence in the office was loud today. A few times she forgot he wasn’t there and looked up, expecting to see one of his genuine smiles from across his desk, the ones that make her forget everything else. When it was her out in the field without him, she managed. She knew she could reach him every time, knew where he was, what he was doing (or not doing). Somewhere along the line, Mulder has become an integral part of her work experience as well as her life. 

Her phone rings fifteen minutes later and she grabs it, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Miss me yet?” Mulder asks without preamble and she hears that same smile in his voice, wishing she could see it. Her lips curl up upon hearing his voice. For the first time today, she feels relaxed. She snuggles into her couch and cradles the phone against her ear. They haven’t been joking much lately. With the X-Files taken from them, Diana causing havoc left and right, they’ve barely been hanging on. She misses this. Misses him. Tonight, on the phone though, is not the time to discuss their partnership, or more importantly, their relationship. Of whatever nature it may be. 

“How’s the case going?”

The change in him is immediate. “We haven’t made much progress yet,” he says with a sigh. “There isn’t much to go on.”

“But you have a theory,” she says, knowing him. “A profile.”

He’s quiet for a moment and she hears rustling in the background. “It’s not your average kidnapper,” he says slowly. “I don’t think his motive is of a sexual nature. The only connection we’ve found so far is that each girl has an older brother.”

Like Mulder and Samantha.

“We’re looking for a man between 18 and 35 years old, most likely with an unresolved childhood trauma involving his own sister or mother. Average to above average intelligence. I’m certain he lives close by, knew the girls beforehand. He was meticulous, Scully,” he says, pausing a moment. Whether it’s to give her a moment to process or himself, she doesn’t know. “The three girls disappeared in a matter of an hour. It’s like he… collected them. I just don’t – we need to find out what… what his reasons are and where he took them.”

She shudders, hugging herself. How must these girls be feeling? Then it hits her, a punch to the gut. They may not be feeling anything anymore. She thinks of dead eyes and pale, cold skin. She hugs herself more tightly, but the sinking feeling in her stomach doesn’t go away.

“Have you found any clues?”

“We found Jenny Quinn’s bike, demolished, in the woods. It looks as if a truck drove over it. That’s our best bet so far. I talked to the boy today, her brother,” he trails off again and she thinks she hears him rub his eyes. “He blames himself. Says that he should have gone with her. If he had, his sister wouldn’t be gone.” His voice sounds unbearably weary. Her heart breaks for the boy, and for Mulder. 

“You need to get some rest.”

“I know.” She hears him sigh. She knows that once she hangs up, he will keep working on his profile, keep working to find the tiny detail that everyone else is missing. That’s Mulder. That’s why they wanted him on this case. “Coffee will be my best friend tomorrow.” He chuckles. He hasn’t lost his humor yet and she’s grateful.

“Call me again tomorrow?” She doesn’t want to sound so needy but the nagging feeling remains. It’s nothing she can quantify, nothing she can put a finger on. All she knows is that she needs to hear Mulder’s voice, needs to know how he’s faring without her during this gruesome case.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, just like he did yesterday before he left for Maine. It gives her hope. Hope that Mulder won’t lose himself out there.

*

For the next two days, Mulder sticks to his promise and calls every night, on the dot. She talks about what he’s missing at work (not much) and he tells her about the progress they’ve made. The case has unofficially been dubbed “the lost girls case”. With every day that passes, hope to find the girls alive fades. They both know it and both try to stay clear of mentioning it, both too afraid to put the words into the world.

“Any X-Files for me to come home to?” he asks tonight. Even though he’s joking, she hears an edge in his voice that hasn’t been there before.

“Not yet,” she replies. “Are you – is there any news?”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “We’re close. I feel like we’re really close. I’ve been working on my profile and there’s a few, uhm, we’re close. I just – I need to work harder. I need to make sure we find him, and find the girls.” His voice is getting frantic.

“Mulder, have you been sleeping at all?”

Another long pause.

“Mulder, you need to-“

“I need to crack this case,” he snaps. “Three girls are missing and the kidnapper is on the loose, doing god knows what to them! How can I sleep, Scully? How can I close my eyes and not – I need to find him, Scully. I need to. The families – Jenny’s brother…” His voice cracks.

“You need to take it easy. You’re no use to anyone if you don’t take care of yourself. What about your team?”

“Team,” he snorts, “they’re a bunch of idiots. They have no idea what they’re doing, they’re useless.” His words unsettle her. That’s not Mulder. Her Mulder doesn’t talk like that. The darkness in his voice makes her shiver.

“Mulder, you-,”

There’s no getting through to him. She hears a noise through the line, like a lamp crashing to a ground, or a fist connecting with a wall.

“I need to find her,” he growls. “Them,” he quickly corrects himself, frustration evident in his voice. “I need to find them.”

But she heard what he said loud and clear. Her. It’s about Samantha. Part of him must be clinging to the hope that finding these little girls alive means that there’s hope for his own little sister, too. He can’t fail, not again. 

“You’re getting too close to this case,” she says gently, not wanting to aggravate him even more.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Scully.” That voice is back, the one she doesn’t recognize. Is he that far gone? Is he in the head of the kidnapper he’s so desperately trying to catch? Or has his sanity tipped over after teetering on the brink for so long?

“It doesn’t concern you, all right? We’re no longer partners.”

Before she can reply, the line goes dead.

Her attempts to call him back go unanswered. She stares at the phone for a long while, waiting and hoping, but it remains deadly silent.

*

The next morning, Scully starts leaving him voicemails. She doesn’t care how desperate she sounds. He doesn’t reply to any of them, doesn’t call her back. Her request to take a day off is declined, Kersh adamant that he not lose another agent, not even for a day.

“There’s work to be done, Agent Scully,” he says, his eyes already moving away from her. “Is there anything else you want?”

She leaves, phone in hand, her heels clacking loudly on the floor. A few heads turn as she hurries by, but she doesn’t have the time to care. She considers calling the Gunmen, asking them to call Mulder in her name. Thinking that her day can’t possibly get worse, she runs straight into Diana Fowley.

“Agent Scully,” she says coolly, looking her up and down. “Why the rush?”

Any other day, she would have nodded at the other woman and just walked on. She interlaces her fingers, trying to swallow enough of her pride to ask her about Mulder. 

“Have you heard from Agent Mulder?” she asks, meeting her eyes. The surprise in Agent Fowley’s face is genuine.

“I haven’t spoken to Fox in over a week,” she says and to her greatest surprise, Scully believes her. “Should I be worried?” For the longest time, Scully has been trying to work out what Diana Fowley’s motives are. She sees the way she looks at Mulder. Hears the way she calls him “Fox”.

“No, no,” she says quickly, “I was just uhm, I thought he might have called you.”

“And why is that, Agent Scully?”

She should have kept walking, should have just ignored her. But there was a good chance that Mulder had contacted her after their argument last night. Or even before. Part of her had thought, had feared, that Mulder had confided in Diana, preferring a less judgmental listening ear.

“No reason, Agent Fowley,” she says. 

“Are you worried he’s going back to the BSU? Yes, I know about the case he’s working in Maine. Missing girls, right? Poor things.”

“I’m not worried about whether he’s working with the BSU, Agent Fowley, but I am worried about what a case like that might do to Mulder.”

“I’m sure he can take care of herself,” Diana says but she doesn’t sound sure at all.

“Thank you, Agent Fowley. Have a good day.”

In her office, Scully takes a few deep breaths. She stares at Mulder’s empty desk and feels the sense of dread returning. Something is not right. She tries his phone again, hopes that this time he’ll pick up. But he doesn’t.

For the rest of the day, she throws herself into work. She imagines that Mulder is doing the same thing right now, all the way up in Maine. She replays their phone conversation over and over in her mind. There have been few times when she’s seen Mulder as a profiler, most prominently with John Lee Roche. She can’t help but shudder at the memory. That man knew how to push Mulder’s buttons. And this time, he is out there all alone, having to deal with another monster. Who is going to stop him this time when he goes too far? 

In the evening, Scully keeps her phone close by and waits. And waits, and waits. She makes sure the phone is charged and working right. It is. Her landline, too. The silence in her living room is deafening. She doesn’t give up, doesn’t go to bed. Exhaustion captures her late at night, her cheek pressed to her cell phone.

This time, Mulder has broken his promise. He doesn’t call.

*

“My name is Special Agent Dana Scully, I’m looking for Fox Mulder. He’s a profiler on the lost girls – on the Livermore Falls missing girls case.” Scully stands in front of the Hoover building, the phone in between shoulder and ear while clinging to her extra large coffee.

The second she opened her eyes, she checked her phone. No new messages. She tried calling Mulder for the hundreds time and once again got his voicemail. Apprehension is eating at her. Calling the local police is her last attempt to find him. If he refuses to talk to her, she will fly out there. No matter what Kersh says.

“Mulder you say?” The police officer on the other end sounds gruff, barely awake.

“Fox Mulder with the FBI.” Impatience seeps into her voice.

“Yeah, I know the guy.” The way he says it makes it clear that he’s not a fan of Mulder.

“Do you know where I can reach him? I have been trying to call his cell phone, but I fear he might have lost it.” It’s just a little a white lie and who knows, maybe Mulder really did lose his phone. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Reach him?” The officer sounds confused. “Ma’am, we cracked the case last night. Agent Mulder and his team left Maine in the evening.”

“You – it’s over? Did you find – were the girls found?”

“I can’t give you any details, ma’am,” he says, half stuttering. “What we found… let’s say it wasn’t pretty.”

The girls are dead, all three of them. The nausea she feels is overwhelming. She closes her eyes for a few second and takes a deep breath. The feeling remains.

“I don’t need details, I’m just looking for my partner.”

“Like I said, Agent Mulder got on a plane last night. He isn’t here anymore.”

Scully hangs up, her hands shaking. She goes into the Hoover building on week knees. Every step is difficult and she fears she might crumble any second. Where is Mulder? How is he feeling? Tears fill her eyes and she swallows hard, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat, the knot in her stomach. She puts her hand there as if that would help. Agent Henley winks at her when she enters the office and it distracts her for the fraction of a moment. Mulder is not as his desk and his absence is another punch to her gut. She swallows hard and leaves. She needs to get a grip and find Mulder. As bad as she feels, just thinking of the girls, of their family, it’s got to be three times worse for him.

She tries calling his landline while in the elevator. Of course he doesn’t pick up. Scully doesn’t even think about it. She gets into her car and drives to Mulder’s apartment. According to the police officer, he must have gotten home late last night.

It explains why he didn’t call her at his usual time. That’s what she tells herself. She knows it’s only half the truth. He had ample time to call her and chose not to. Her heart is a constant drum against her ribs. Fear spurs her on.

What will she find in his apartment?

For appearance sake, she knocks and waits. Mulder doesn’t come to the door, doesn’t ask her to go away; there’s no discernible noise coming from inside. With shaking hands, she uses her key and steps inside. She is met with deep, thorough darkness. The blinds are down, shutting out the light. There’s merely a sliver of light from where one of the blinds is crooked.

“Mulder?” She asks into the darkness.

“Sorry, wrong address,” he replies, sounding like a small, hurt boy.

Scully closes the door behind her and searches for the light switch. Mulder winces when the lights come on and her heart breaks when she sees him. He’s on the floor, his back against his coffee table. He’s surrounded by hundreds of pictures. She comes closer, taking tiny steps, and takes it all in.

The pictures are of him, of Samantha, of their family. They photos are around him, circle him. He’s inside a bubble, a moment in time before it all changed. The pictures, the memories they portray, keep him safe, keep him just this side of sanity. 

“Can I come inside?” She asks him and he lifts his head. His eyes are small and exhausted, bloodshot. He hasn’t slept in who knows how long. There’s a five o’clock shadow framing his quivering lips.

“You’re already inside.”

He watches as she takes off her shoes. She steps over the pictures, pushes some of them to the side so that she can sit next to him. He doesn’t send her away, lets him into his circle. She puts a hand on his back and he flinches before he leans into her touch.

“Are you okay?” The question is ridiculous and she regrets it instantly.

Mulder doesn’t reply, just sorts through his pictures. She watches him, all the while stroking his back, hoping it will give him comfort. His behavior indicates that he might be in shock. He’s too calm, too quiet. It’s as if he’s not even here.

“I heard you cracked the case,” she says.

He holds up a picture of himself, grinning into the camera. He’s missing a few teeth, cute as a button. She sees her Mulder in this young boy, wishes she could have known him like this, too. Devoid of pain and soul-crushing guilt. She draws circles on his back, needing the contact for herself, too.

“None of it made sense,” he begins. He’s still not looking at her, just putting photos on piles. One here, one there. It doesn’t take her long to see what he’s doing. There’s a time before Samantha, a time with her, and a time after he lost her.

“Remember my profile? I was wrong.” He laughs, but there is no humor. “So very wrong.”

“Tell me,” she whispers, leaning against him. “Please.”

He needs to share his pain. It’s gnawing at him, eating him alive.

“We were about to arrest this guy when this kid walks in,” he pauses, his next breath shaky. “He’d been crying and at first I thought another kid had gone missing. I thought he was another boy who’d lost his little sister. But that wasn’t it at all.”

The nausea returns and threatens to overwhelm her.

“It was a kid, Scully. A boy.” His voice is barely there. She hugs him awkwardly from behind, hot tears spilling onto his t-shirt-clad back. “He thought… he really thought… he thought he was helping them. Thought their brothers were mean to them. All he wanted was to be an older brother. He wanted…” His body quakes and convulses as he cries.

“It’s going to be all right,” she whispers into his back, leaving a kiss against his warm neck.

“A kid, Scully,” he repeats. “He’s just a kid. Do you know what he did?” He turns to her, his face tear-streaked. She wipes a few of them away and he does the same for her. He doesn’t wait for her to answer before he continues, “He built a sanctuary for them in the woods. A place underground. He thought it could be a new home for them, a better one. He bought dolls and dresses, had food and water for them.”

They’re looking at each other, tears streaming freely. “But he’s just a kid and he didn’t think it through. This place had everything the girls could have wanted. Everything except air.”

Scully gasps, feeling like she, too, can’t get enough of it.

“They suffocated, Scully. That’s… that’s how we found them.” She hugs him closer, needs him to feel something other than his guilt. 

“It’s not your fault, Mulder.”

He nods, slowly. “Hmm. You know what this girl’s older brother said? The boy I told you about? He blames himself. The day she disappeared, he sent her away. He didn’t want to go to the store with her. He yelled at her and I- I know what that feels like, Scully.”

She touches his cheek, warm and wet with his tears. If only she could take the remorse out of him. Make him understand that he was a kid himself. That no matter what he said that night when he was 12 years old, it would have happened the exact same way that it did.

“I told her to get out of my life. And then she did.”

“Mulder, no,” Scully says. “Her disappearance was not your fault. None of it.”

“Couldn’t save her, Scully. Couldn’t save these girls either. I can’t save anyone.”

 _“_ You saved me,” she reminds him. He blinks at her. “You found the cure for my cancer.”

“Without me you wouldn’t have even-“ She puts on a finger on his lips.

“Stop blaming yourself, Mulder. You’re not to blame. Not for my cancer, not for Samantha, not for this tragic accident. You worked tirelessly on finding them. When’s the last time you slept? Ate something? I know you want to save everyone but sometimes… it’s not your fault, Mulder. You have to understand that.” She hopes her words penetrate his thick skull, his brilliant mind. He wants to save the whole world, her Mulder. When everyone gives up, Mulder keeps going. He’ll always keep plowing onwards, searching for the truth, demanding justice.

“Why are you smiling?” He asks her and she’s surprised herself, having not realized that her lips have curled upwards.

“I’m glad you’re home,” she says honestly. “And in one piece.” She touches his cheeks, his shoulders and his chest. No visible bruises for once. The damages to his soul, though, those will linger for a while, will try to fester. Scully won’t let them. Last year, he saved her. Now it’s time to repay him. She won’t give him up and won’t allow the regret to defeat him.

“Let’s get you to bed, hm?” She says, tugging at his arm. “You need to sleep.”

“I can’t.” Terror flickers in his eyes. “I’m afraid to… to close my eyes.”

“I’ll be here,” she promises. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He takes her hand and lets himself be led into his bedroom. He draws his knees up to his chest, like a child. Scully gets in behind him. It’s awkward but they make it work. Like they always do.


End file.
